Fail Safe?
by AlwaysEachOther
Summary: "I'm going to end this – blackmail or no blackmail. Understood?" An alternative to 5x18 Fail Safe. What if Michael had let Fiona take the shot on Anson? A different ending for season 5.


Hi there! Here's a story about what I wish had really happened in the season 5 finale of Burn Notice, where I wished Michael had let Fi take the shot on Anson. I remember I screamed SO LODULY when that happened haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review, I really appreciate them!

/

" _I'm going to end this – blackmail or no blackmail. Understood?"_

Fiona stared at him, a grim and sober expression covering her face. Michael stared right back at her, unable to break their eye contact.

He knew how serious Fiona was, and he had to agree with her. While he was typically the one to stop her from doing something rash, this time he couldn't. It had been a difficult few weeks for them, and they couldn't continue the way they had been going. She hadn't deserved to be used as leverage against him. She hadn't deserved the blood of innocent men on her hands, to see their faces when she closed her eyes. If she were to go to prison, it better be for something she had actually done. She had acted on her love for Michael, her desire to protect him no matter what, and for the past few weeks he had been doing the same for her. She had barely slept for weeks, weighing up her actions with the choice she had faced that fateful day.

Fiona watched him, unable to tear her eyes away from his stoic face. She knew him so well that she could practically see the wheels turning in his head, desperately trying to come up with another plan, just as he had been doing for weeks. While she had been put through hell, so had he. Just as she had acted on her love for him, so had he, as he tried every day to save her from this threat that was worse than anything they had faced before. He hadn't deserved to struggle, to work with a man whose agenda threatened everything he stood for. To have the person he loved most be threatened and used against him.

Michael finally nodded at her. He realised that there was no other way. This had to be done. It had to be them, just the two of them.

"Okay. Let's go."

/

Michael waited in the parking garage, as Fiona remained perched on the top of the opposite building. While he didn't pace anxiously as most people would, she could see the tension that filled his body, even from a distance.

He turned his head, making eye contact with Fi, even though he couldn't see her face. He knew she was there, he knew she had the shot ready. There was no way she'd miss.

Fiona watched from her sniper perch as Anson approached and Michael tossed him around, throwing him against the side of nearby cars. She listened through her Bluetooth as the slime ball almost begged Michael, told him he was making a mistake.

"Michael, don't listen to him." She whispered, willing him through their unspoken connection to follow through with their plan. They couldn't do this anymore. It had to end. She would shed no tears nor feel any guilt over Anson Fullerton.

"I am not letting you put the pieces back together." Michael told the older man firmly.

"Pieces of what?" Anson challenged him. "A covert organisation that does things you happen to disagree with? How's that any different from the CIA? Or any one of the other acronyms you work for?"

"It is entirely different, you ruined my life!" Michael roared.

"Ruined your life? I gave you a life Michael! You were alone. You hadn't talked to your family in years. The love of your life was lonely and abandoned in Ireland, not sure if you were dead or alive. Look at what you have now. You want to throw it all away? Can you throw it all away?"

 _Please, Michael, don't,_ Fi whispered furiously inside her head. She felt as if time was standing still.

Michael nodded, keeping Anson firmly in place. The words of the twisted psychologist had managed to affect him, but he knew what had to be done. It felt as if all his training had come down to this very moment.

The bullet shot from the sniper rifle, speeding through the air and cleanly through the forehead of Anson Fullerton, piercing the skin and exiting through the other side of his skull. It was a clean, perfect, clinical shot.

Michael watched as the psychotic psychologist slumped, falling back against the vehicle behind him and sliding to the ground. His eyes were glassy and his mouth hung open. The nightmare was over.

The covert operative stood over his tormentor, staring down at him for a brief second before bolting away from the scene. He had to get away before someone discovered the body. He'd been careful not to leave any fingerprints, and there was no way anyone could trace Fiona's shot. He'd make sure to hide the sniper for a while before dumping it.

He quickly made his way back to the blue Hyundai parked a couple of streets over. Fiona was leaning against the door on the driver's side, her face blank and expressionless. He made his way towards her, needing to hold her in his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, pulling her into his chest.

She nodded into his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his back and the other grasping at the back of his neck. Her position was reminiscent of their embrace after the bombing, the very event that had triggered this entire nightmare.

She pulled away from his quickly, knowing it was not the time or place for such affections. "Let's get out of here."

Michael nodded, making his way to the other side of the car. Once they were both seated, Fi sped off in her usual fashion.

/

They lay together in bed later that night, Fi's head tucked under his chin with her arms against his chest and his around her torso. She pressed soft kisses to his throat intermittently as they held each other in the silence.

"What are you thinking?" Michael enquired softly, one hand lifting to tangle itself in the back of her hair.

Fiona sighed softly. "I don't even know. Part of me still feels like we'll wake up tomorrow and this was all a dream. Like we'll still be waiting for the other shoe to drop." She confessed quietly into the dark.

Michael's arms tightened around her. "Me too."

Sam had checked with his cop buddies as soon as Anson's body had been found, to make sure no one had seen Michael or Fi. Fortunately, the man had been a ghost, so after getting nowhere with his identity and no leads, they had unofficially closed the case. Since Anson had kept all of the real evidence that pointed towards Fiona in the consulate bombing, both the police and the Feds had hit a wall in that respect as well. Bar Anson rising from the dead to haunt them, they were in the clear, and the threat of Fiona going to prison had been removed.

Michael tilted his head down to press a kiss into her hair. "As psychotic as he was, there's one thing he got right."

Fiona wiggled back to gain enough space so she could crane her face up to meet his. "What?"

"The things I've gained since being here back in Miami. You, my mom, Sam and Jesse, even Nate. None of that would've been possible without my burn notice." He admitted.

Fiona stared at him in surprise, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Are you seriously admitting to being thankful for getting burned?"

Michael grinned at her shocked expression. "Maybe just a little."

Fiona could not believe she was finally hearing him say the words she had said so many times herself over the years. Pushing herself up with her forearms she hovered above him, leaning down to connect her lips with his.

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." She whispered against his lips.

Michael smiled back at her.

"I really want things to be different now, Fi."

"What, nothing like a crazed sociopath threatening your girlfriend to remind you how you feel about her?" Fi teased with a smile.

"Yeah." Michael nodded, his face serious.

Fiona's face sobered. She brushed a soft hand across his cheek, causing his eyes to drift closed.

"Look at you being all sappy tonight." She whispered.

His eyes slid open again. "I'm serious, Fi. I know I don't always tell you how I feel, but I've never been so scared in my life."

Michael had truly never felt so afraid. Sure, Fiona had been in danger plenty of times before, but those had mostly been issues that had been resolved after a day or two. This had been a fear that had built up over weeks and weeks, something that they had kept fighting so hard for, but had encountered so many obstacles. He understood why she felt as though it wasn't real; he honestly felt the same way.

Looking into his eyes, Fiona believed him.

"I know, Michael. But it's all over now. I'm still here."

"Thank God." He breathed.

Leaning back down once more, she connected her lips with his, intensifying the kiss. When she pulled away, he was smiling up at her, a look she had never seen before in his eyes.

"Marry me."

Fiona froze, her eyes scanning his face.

"What?"

His smile widened. "Marry me, Fi?"

She simply gaped at him, certain that she was hearing him incorrectly. When her brain finally caught up, she responded slowly.

"Michael, we've had a hard couple of weeks, and I wouldn't want you to say something you don't mean …"

"No, Fi." He protested. "I know I don't say much, but I've been thinking about this for awhile now. I was just too afraid to really consider it when we had everything else going on. I was too scared to want it."

Her eyes widened as she took in his words. "Are you really-"

"I really mean it, Fi." He cut her off. "I need you in my life, for as long as we have. I don't want to waste any more time, or have any regrets. And I don't know what's going to happen with the CIA and my burn notice, but all I need-"

This time she was the one to cut him off, with a kiss.

When she pulled back, he was watching her expectantly.

"Does that mean …"

She gave him a smile that he swore was brighter than the sun. "Ask me again."

Michael lifted himself so that the two of them were sitting beside each other in the bed. He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes.

"Fiona Glenanne, will you marry me?"

She nodded a few times before she found her voice. "Yes. Yes, Michael."

Within an instant his arms were around her, his mouth hot and insistent against hers. She responded with vigour, their passion causing them to fall back to the bed below them.

/

The following morning, the sun streamed across Michael's face, causing his eyes to squeeze shut and then open. Memories of the day and night before came flooding back to him, and he started suddenly but calmed instantly at the feel of Fi's body pressed firmly against his. He tilted his head towards her to confirm it to himself, and breathed a gentle sigh of relief at the sight of her. He hadn't dreamed it after all. Anson was gone, and Fiona was still with him.

He felt her begin to stir against his chest, and waited as she slowly turned her head to look up at him. A smile spread across his face at her relaxed expression, her eyes shining up at him.

"Morning." She murmured, not wanting to break the stillness of the loft.

"Morning, fiancée." He said just as softly.

A smile broke across her face, and he instantly knew she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. In that moment, he realised he was happy, truly happy. The nightmare was over. 


End file.
